Author's Notes - Thanks to padma97 and Lorna Roxen for the kind reviews. I'm glad people are still interested in this story. Since I missed an entire week, I thought I'd update again today.

Jack was finally clean, dressed as if he were going into work, although he doubted the Hub was on the agenda today. Susan and Matthew were thankfully at school. When he had returned the day before wearing the desert clothing of his childhood, his face tanned to the point of being almost leathery, they had been overjoyed, expecting their mother to wake at any moment. When that didn't happen, they blamed it on Jack. Matthew went so far as to announce that any man who abandoned them, again, definitely wasn't father material. That had stung on many levels, and he had been relieved to see them gone when he walked into the den after his shower.

"She's asleep. Thanks for changing the sheets." He walked into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Owen shrugged. "I've had to do worse." Following Jack into the kitchen, he poured his own coffee. "Shit, I liked it better when Ianto was over here. Your kids make coffee strong enough to melt the spoon."

Jack merely raised his eyebrows, surprised that Ianto had been hanging out at the house. Although, Melissa had saved his life; perhaps he was just trying to return the favor by being useful. He drank his coffee, deciding he needed the caffeine before attempting round two with the doctor.

"I think I owe you an apology, Captain," Owen astonished him by saying.

"Oh?" Jack just stood there passively, wondering what was going to come out of the medic's mouth.

"Don't make it so bloody hard, Jack! I assumed, hell, we all assumed, you left of your own free will. Thought you chose your ex-partner over us. Now Melissa says that Hart grabbed you. I probably wasn't fair to you when you returned." Owen hated apologies; they made him angry, as many things in his life did.

"How could you believe that I would leave her? Or the kids? Or that I would abandon Torchwood?"

Their assumptions hurt his feelings in way he hadn't allowed in over a century. He had put faith in his team and forgiven them on so many occasions, but even Owen still did not trust him completely.

"Look, I said I was sorry. If it's any consolation, we did try to track you, but it was like you had disappeared off the face of the earth."

Since that was exactly what had happened, he chose to let go of his anger. They couldn't have done anything, even if they had witnessed his abduction. It was time to put that in the past and concentrate on the wellbeing of his wife.

"What's wrong with her, Owen? How the hell can she feel my pain? Why does she sound so unsure of herself all of a sudden?"

The doctor reluctantly finished his coffee, wishing he had better news to give. As Jack paced the small room, Owen leaned uncomfortably against the counter. "First of all, why are you surprised she feels your pain? She told me you were suffering when Abaddon was sucking all that energy from you; then she told me when you had died. Isn't that another one of her Time Lord tricks?"

"She felt that?" he asked, horrified at the thought.

"Yeah, and then a minute or two after you left the car park, she started seizing and shouting your name. It lasted about three minutes." He watched in concern as Jack abruptly stopped pacing, his face ashen.

"I was being electrocuted," he admitted softly, hands shaking as he relived the moment when John Hart appeared in the Hub and managed to sneak up behind him with a Sontaran correction rod. The pain from the alien training stick had made him wish he had merely been killed, and it had incapacitated him long enough for his misguided, slightly psychopathic ex-partner to teleport him to a very unhappy family reunion. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the images of what had happened next from his mind.

"Christ," Owen whispered softly in sympathy. "Telepathy's not my area of expertise, Captain. You're going to have to ask her for answers to that one. But didn't she say in the bedroom that she couldn't feel you anymore, and that she didn't want to live like that? Doesn't it sound like she has a connection to you at all times?"

"That's impossible, Owen," he answered dismissively. "Yes, certain telepathic species psychically bond with their mates, but humans don't have the level of . . . ." As he trailed off, he made an uneasy realization. "No, no, no."

"What?"

"I can't bond that way with her, but what if the connection's only one way? What if she bonded with me?"

What else had she said? She couldn't stand the hole in her head where the other Time Lords had been. Had she made the connection with him in a desperate attempt to lessen the silence? Why hadn't she said anything?

"Then I recommend you curtail dying for a while," Owen suggested sarcastically. In his own clumsy way, he was trying to make Jack feel better. He could see that his friend was extremely shaken, and wished he could reassure him. However, the doctor thought that some strange telepathic union was the least of their worries at the moment.

Knowing his friend wasn't going to like hearing his next theory, Owen brought it up anyway. "Forget the psychic shit for a minute. I'm more concerned about her brain injury."

Jack glanced up at him sharply. "What do you mean, brain injury?"

Upset, the doctor snapped. "Come on, Captain, don't tell me you didn't come to the same conclusion! Even she understands on some level that something's wrong. Since when have you heard her use descriptive adjectives as imprecise as mushy and yishy? As soon as she normally wakes up from an injury, she's hungry, energetic and ready to annoy all of us with her encyclopedic knowledge of galactic trivia. If she were a human, I'd be ordering a MRI, but she's never let me scan her, so I would have nothing to compare as a baseline reading."

Watching Jack sag before him, Owen finished regretfully, "All we can do is wait for her to wake up and start some basic tests. I'm sorry."

Devastated, Jack nodded numbly at his friend.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So, what did Jack have to say for himself, then?" Gwen interrogated Owen as he made a brief appearance in the Hub to pick up a few instruments that might help diagnose the extent of Melissa's injury.

Owen looked at her warily, not sure how to answer as Tosh and Ianto walked down the stairs to demand the same thing, although more politely. "He didn't run off," he finally stated, knowing it would be easier for everyone if Jack didn't have to do this himself.

"What happened, then?" Tosh asked in concern.

Fiddling with a few instruments, Owen paused a moment. "He, uh, Hart took him away, by force." No sense explaining about the psychic connection or whatever it was. Best keep it simple.

Ianto looked stricken. "How did he manage to get away?"

The medic stared at him in surprise. "I never asked." Seeing condemnation in the Welshman's eyes, Owen tried to defend himself. "We had other things to talk about. Melissa woke up this morning. She may be suffering the aftereffects of a stroke. I'm just grabbing some things that might help diagnose the damage."

Overcome, Tosh grabbed him in a tight hug. "How bad is it?"

Finding Tosh's display of affection strangely comforting, Owen had to swallow a lump in his throat. "No bloody idea. She fell back asleep about twenty minutes later. She's still quite groggy."

"So I assume Jack's not going to make it into the Hub today." Gwen commented carelessly, causing the others to stare at her in outraged shock.

"Would you be here if Rhys were ill, Gwen?" Ianto couldn't believe that Gwen was still jealous of Melissa. Hell, she hadn't done more than kiss Jack before his wife came into the picture. She had no reason to resent the woman.

Feeling the rebuke, Gwen tried to explain herself. "I didn't mean it like that. Some UNIT official is on his way over. Said he needed to speak to Jack personally. When I said he wasn't available, he became suspicious. Wanted to know if everything was all right. Said he was coming down anyway, and he expected to speak to Jack."

Groaning, Owen let go of Tosh. "You didn't happen to get the name of the UNIT official, did you, Gwen?" Neither he nor Jack completely trusted UNIT, even after the top level reorganization.

"Some brigadier. "Leftben, Leftbain?" He was speaking so quickly, I didn't have time to write his name down. Tosh can pull up the telephone recording if you need the name, can't she?"

"Leftbridge-Stewart?" Ianto asked in awe.

"That's it!" Gwen cried in relief.

Smiling, Owen relaxed temporarily. "No problem, then. Ianto, would you escort Brigadier Leftbridge-Stewart to Jack's house when he gets here? Just give me a heads up before you leave." Turning to Gwen, he mentioned, "Give the man access to anything he wants. Right now, we need all the friends we can get."

As Gwen and Ianto left, he pulled Tosh into a hug of his own. "I don't know if I can do this, Tosh. Jack's counting on me, but my knowledge isn't worth shit in this case."

"You'll do your best," she promised, giving him a kiss. They hadn't had more than a few minutes alone together since that night at the Hard Rock Cafe, but she could tell how apprehensive Owen was. He did not take failure well. Knowing Susan was the only one in that household who might even think to make dinner, she excused herself after Owen left, resolving to help in the only way she knew how.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Susan and Matthew went home straight after school. They were anxious to see if their mother had regained consciousness, although Matthew did not want to see Captain Jack's face if he could avoid it. He was still fuming that the man had disappeared when they had needed him most. It was a pleasant shock to both of them to find their mother sitting on the sofa, Jack trying to coax her to eat a few spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup.

"Mama!" Susan was at her side in an instant, her backpack forgotten on the floor. Jack put the soup on the side table, knowing he wouldn't get her to eat any more of it anytime soon.

"Susan! It's so good to see you! I love you." Tears ran down her face as she smiled happily and gave her daughter a hug. "Don't you want a hug, too, Matthew?"

Relieved to see his mother, he nevertheless chose to be belligerent. "Thought I'd wait until he was out of the way."

Her smile wavered as she glanced between Jack and her son. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to be in the same room with him! He left you when you needed him! I don't know why you're being so nice to such a big jerk!" He threw his trumpet case to the ground, making her flinch. Jack stood abruptly, ready to leave the room.

She looked up at Jack curiously. "Why is everyone mad at you? First Owen, and now Matthew. Susan, are you angry at Jack?"

Reluctantly, her daughter admitted, "More disappointed, I guess. You kept asking for him, and he wasn't here."

"That wasn't his fault," she said matter-of-factly, not understanding their attitudes.

Tenderly, Jack informed her, "They all thought I left voluntarily, Melissa. You were the only one who knew I was taken."

Distressed, her smile crumpled. "I'm sorry. All I ever do is cause problems." She started crying softly, unnerving her children, who weren't used to such emotional displays from her.

Sitting next to her, he let her cry against him, concentrating on feeling calm. Gradually, she quieted, although he realized that she had fallen asleep rather than getting her emotions under control.

Looking in sympathy at Matthew, who was obviously upset at distressing her, he spoke evenly. "I understand why you're angry, Matthew, but I didn't leave your mother or you and Susan voluntarily. I hope you'll forgive me for not being here when you needed me. I got here as soon as I could."

Gulping, he nodded. "What's wrong with Mom?" He knew he'd been unfair and was feeling very awkward.

"We don't know yet. Owen thinks she may have some sort of injury that's making her act a little differently." Jack phrased his answer as gently as he could.

Involuntarily, Susan took a step away from her mother; the girl looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Will she get better?"

"She's a whole lot better than she was yesterday." He responded with a smile, trying to be upbeat. "She's going to be fine; it may take a while for her to control her emotions like you're used to. Just be patient, okay?"

Eyes still wide, Susan nodded, picking up her backpack and retreating wordlessly upstairs.

Matthew studied his mother and Jack for a few seconds. "You promise not to leave again?"

Sighing, he answered, "I didn't want to leave in the first place, Matt."

The teen continued to stare, not responding. Finally, he moved a little closer. "Is it okay to touch her?"

"Of course," he reassured the boy. "She doesn't have a disease, and she won't break. She's just a little confused right now."

Tentatively, he sat down on the other side of his mother, holding her hand as she dozed. "I'm sorry, Dad. I was way out of line. Are you okay?" Matthew studied Jack's bronzed, wind-blown face, and saw a deep sadness in his blue eyes.

"I'll be fine," he reassured the boy, touched that Matthew had thought about him at all. After a few minutes, he suggested, "Why don't you go work on your homework. Owen will be here soon, and when your mother wakes up, he's going to run her through a few tests. You might want to keep Susan company when he does."

Understanding his sister was not handling their mother's emotional outburst very well, Matthew readily agreed, taking his backpack with him to his room. Jack followed him upstairs, carrying Melissa in his arms. He had just put her in their bed when Owen knocked on the door.

"And you thought house calls were a thing of the past," the medic commented breezily as he wheeled in several pieces of equipment. "How's Melissa?"

"Woke up, got upset when Matthew yelled at me, cried herself to sleep. It's been an eventful quarter hour." Jack tried to keep his tone light, but failed miserably.

Remembering Ianto's question, Owen turned his attention to his boss as he set up the equipment. "Sounds like she's no worse than before. Try not to worry so much right now." Taking his medical scanner out of his bag, he pointed it at the Captain.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jack asked in annoyance.

"I've got plenty of baseline readings on you. Just making sure your little trip didn't affect you too badly. I haven't forgotten that you heal perfectly once you've died, but I did notice how tanned you are. You've been gone a while, haven't you?"

"I don't want to discuss it," he answered flatly, his pulse beginning to race.

"I can tell," Owen answered calmly as he finished taking the readings. Then, he rummaged through his satchel, pulling out several vials of liquid. Quickly preparing a hypo spray, he injected into Jack's neck before the man could as much as flinch.

"What was that for?" he slurred as the fast acting sedative began to work on his body.

"You're malnourished, vitamin deficient, sleep-deprived, and your white blood count is almost non-existent. This will boost your immune system and force you to rest." Seeing his boss try to fight the effects of the sedative, Owen carefully pushed him down until he was lying on the sofa. "Now, I won't pretend to be able to carry you, but I think you'll be comfortable here. What do you think?"

Jack wanted to tell Owen exactly what he thought, but found it too difficult to do anything but close his eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack woke to the sound of familiar voices. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was, and reflexively jerked upright, the better to be prepared for whatever threat faced him.

"Steady there, Captain," the Brigadier counseled as the Torchwood leader put his hands to his head to try to still the pounding inside his skull. "Dr. Harper thought you would be out for at least another four hours."

"Water," he croaked, his tongue thick and his mouth extremely dry. Owen handed him a glassful from the kitchen, then started to take new readings with the scanner.

Glaring at his medic, he greedily gulped down the entire glass in just a few seconds.

"Oi! I'm not cleaning up if you drink it so fast you choke." Finished taking his blood pressure, Owen ran the scanner again. "How the hell did you metabolize the sedative that quickly?"

"Time Agency," he said shortly, still trying to deal with the pounding headache.

"Well you didn't do yourself any favors," he responded acidly. "You need to rest, Captain."

"Later, Owen." Gratefully, he accepted the two aspirin that the Brigadier held out in his hand. Chewing them up and swallowing without water, he took a deep breath to clear his head and smiled at the Leftbridge-Stewart. "So, Alistair, is this a social call?"

"Hardly, Captain. If it was, then I'd have picked a damn inconvenient time, hadn't I? Sorry to hear about your wife's injury, and your abduction. I think UNIT and Torchwood should have a system in place if one of us requires assistance, eh?" Leftbridge-Stewart regarded Captain Harkness thoughtfully. The man looked like he had been through the trenches and then some. No wonder his medic had tried to sedate him.

Raising his eyebrow, Jack quipped, "You mean, we should have a system in place to call you if we get into trouble. I can't imagine UNIT needing the assistance of six oddballs who sit on top of a rift in space and time in the middle of Cardiff."

"Watch who you're calling an oddball, Jack. I consider myself bloody normal compared to you." Owen was preparing another syringe under the disapproving eye of his boss.

"Owen, if that's another sedative, I will have to shoot you, and I can't afford to go recruiting right now."

"No worries, mate. I don't plan on wasting a dose of that on you again. This is just the equivalent to a multivitamin. I'll even give you a choice on where you take it." Owen held the long syringe in front of him with a gleam in his eye. He had purposefully used old-fashioned tech instead of the hypo spray he could have used. Served Jack right for shrugging off the sedative much too early.

Knowing Owen was getting his revenge, Jack chuckled good-naturedly. "Seeing as how the Brig's here, I'll take it in my arm. Wouldn't want to make a guest uncomfortable."

Sir Alistair snorted, remembering too many times when Captain Harkness had done just that. Before he could comment, however, Melissa walked unsteadily into the room.

"What's going on? Brigadier? What are you doing here?"

Both Owen and Jack dropped what they were doing to assist her to the sofa. Clasping her hand tightly, Jack asked, "How are you feeling, Sweetheart?"

Looking at him in exasperation as Owen piled a blanket on top of her, she complained, "You only use terms of endearments like that when you're worried about me, and Owen's hovering over me like a mother hen. Want to explain to me what's going on? Good to see you Brigadier, by the way."

"And you, Mrs. Harkness, although it seems I'm in the way. Perhaps I should come back tomorrow." Grabbing his cane, the Brigadier started to rise.

"Wait just a minute, Alistair; you haven't even told me what you came all this way to talk about."

"Ow!" Jack glared at Owen, extremely annoyed that the medic had chosen to give him the vitamin shot after all.

"Didn't think I would forget did you?" Owen smirked.

"What's wrong, Jack? Are you okay?" Melissa teared up, suddenly afraid she was missing something important.

"I'm fine," he soothed, rubbing her arm. "Owen was having his little joke. It was just vitamins. He doesn't think I eat right."

"You promise?" She begged, unsure of everything, distress showing clearly on her face.

"Yes." He kissed her forehead, and tried very hard not to worry while she was so close to him.

Decisively, Owen took control. Voice booming, he commanded. "For once, everyone is going to listen to me. Jack, you take the Brigadier into the kitchen and find out why he's here. Then, you are going to sleep, with or without drugs, your choice." More gently, he addressed his other patient. "Melissa, we're going to stay in here, and I'm going to run some tests, okay?"

"Will they hurt?" she asked timidly. "Tests always hurt."

"Not a bit," he reassured her, holding up the medical scanner. "You remember this, right?"

"I'm not an idiot, Owen," she snapped at him unexpectedly. "I think I can recognize your medical scanner by now."

"Nobody said you were," he answered calmly. "I'm also going to ask you some questions that I want you to answer."

Irritably, she replied, "Fine, but it's a waste of time. I feel perfect." Turning to Jack, however, she once again became uncertain. "Are you sure you aren't upset at me, Jack?"

"Not at all," he reassured her. "I'm going to be in the kitchen if you need me, okay?"

"Okay." Nervously, she began to twist the hem of her robe.

As Owen herded Jack to the kitchen, he slipped a receiver in his hand. Closing the door, Jack offered Alistair some tea before setting up the small receiver in the middle of the table. "What's that for?" the Brigadier asked.

"Melissa seems to be picking up my feelings, but she isn't interpreting them very well right now. Owen didn't want me too close to her when he started his tests. He'll turn on the transmitter once he's finished with his physical examination." Taking a sip of tea, he changed the subject. "So, you going to tell my why you're here, Brigadier?"

Looking discomfited, the Leftbridge-Stewart admitted, "Well, it hardly seems important now. Captain Magumbo had some concerns about the woman who appeared after the Doctor's death claiming that she could straighten out the timeline. She won't give her name to anyone, starts talking about the fragility of a causal nexus and a lot of other nonsense if you ask her why. We granted her access to the TARDIS, but when she appeared with plans to rip the TARDIS apart to build a time machine, it made several UNIT officials uncomfortable, to say the least. She finally gave your name as a reference. Thought I'd check her out."

Thinking of Rose, Jack smiled tiredly. Had it only a little over a week ago that Melissa had come back from London? Trying hard not to remember the six months it had been for him, he reassured the Brigadier.

"She's fantastic, a former companion of the Doctor who's been searching for him for the last few months. Long, complicated story, she got trapped in a parallel universe where time runs ahead of us. She knows something bad is coming, and wants to make sure the Doctor's around to stop it. If anyone can find a way to change history and bring him back, then it's her."

"Is she a Time Lord, then? I know the Doctor thought he was the last, but obviously he was wrong on that count."

Jack's face became an impassive mask as memories of the Master washed over him. He had recalled the horror of the Valiant as Gray had slowly tortured him to the point of death. "She's not a Time Lord. There's another one of those out there, but he's not a threat at this time."

"A threat? Good God, man! Are you telling me the Master's still alive?" Agitated, he pounded the table.

"You know him?" Jack asked incredulously.

"I've had several run-ins with that reprobate. Always was slightly off-center, if you get my drift. I really don't want to face him without the Doctor."

Jack hurriedly reassured the Brigadier; he didn't think he could stomach any stories involving the Master just now. "Like I said, he's not a threat at this time. He's stuck a long way from Earth, and without the TARDIS he won't be escaping."

Before the UNIT commander could reply, Owen's voice could be heard through the receiver. "The scanner isn't picking up anything abnormal, Melissa. I'm going to do ask you some questions, if that's okay." Jack stared intently at the machine, waiting anxiously.

"You know, you could declare me perfect and go spend some time with Toshiko. I really don't see why you're so concerned about me." Her voice sounded teasing and oh so normal to Jack's ears, and he hoped that whatever was bothering her had resolved itself on its own.

"Not a chance. I have to earn my bonus this month. Okay, first question, what's the last thing you remember before waking up today?"

"Come on, Owen, you're asking me that? I remember everything, or have you forgotten?"

"Just give me the abbreviated version, and stop trying to dance around the question."

"Fine," she answered petulantly. "I . . . I was . . . ." Her voice started to sound increasingly unsure as she continued. "I saved you and Ianto. I remember that. I . . . took you somewhere? Jack was with us, wasn't he?"

Suddenly, she became very agitated and nervous. "He's going to be angry, so very, very angry. I lied to him, but I had to do it. He's going to hate me."

"What did you lie to him about?" Owen asked very softly.

"Don't ask me that," she ordered immediately. "It makes my head hurt, and I feel all scared again. All mushy brained."

"No worries. You don't have to answer. Hear me, Melissa? We're not going to talk about that right now."

Jack strained to hear through the silence, guessing that Owen was attempting to calm her. Wishing that he could go in there and comfort her, he resisted the impulse, staying in the kitchen.

After a few moments, he heard Owen again. "Okay, I'm going to ask you to do a few things; don't worry; just do your best." She must have nodded because Owen began his instructions. "Raise your right hand."

"You don't seriously expect me to do something as trivial as that do you?" Then a second later, she asked, "Satisfied?"

"Left hand." There was a long-suffering sigh, but she must have complied.

"Good. Stand up and raise your left leg."

"Want me to do the cancan, too?"

"Just raise your right leg next, will you?" "Great. Touch your nose. And your toes. And your head. Your chin. Ears."

"Want to see me touch my elbow to my nose?"

"You can do that?" he asked, surprised.

Laughing, she answered, "No, just seeing if you still have a sense of humor."

"It went missing ages ago. Now, I want you to draw a square, circle and triangle on this piece of paper."

"Why don't you ask for something interesting, like a tetra decagon, or a double helix, or a triple helix for that matter." "Oh, alright. Give me that paper."

"Not bad."

"Hey! If you want to critique my artistic talents, at least let me sketch something."

"Another time. I do want to see Tosh tonight, after all." "Okay, we're going to play word associations. I'll say a word, and then you tell me the first word that pops into your head."

"I do know what word association means, Owen." The sarcasm and impatience was back in her voice.

"Time."

"Lord."

"Apple."

"Fruit."

"Rhinoceros."

"Judoon."

"What the hell's a Judoon?"

"Big, tough Rhino police; they work for the Shadow Proclamation."

"Of course, should have known that right off." Owen's sarcasm had gone up a few notches.

"Earth."

"Blue." She paused for a moment, and then said hotly, "Well, it is!"

"Never said it wasn't. Lamp."

"Shade. Can't we go on to something else?"

"Fine by me. What's the square root of sixty-five thousand, five hundred and thirty-six?"

"Two hundred fifty-six."

Name the first five prime numbers."

"In the Arabic number system?" she asked mischievously.

"Yes."

"Two, three, seven, eleven, thirteen."

"Name as many animals as you can in five seconds that start with the letter 'B'."

"Earth animals?" she teased. "In English?"

"Are you stalling for time?" he countered, not amused.

"Fine. Boa constrictor, bustard, bush pig, Burmese cat, baboon, burying beetle, bluegill, burro, boletus, bass, butterfly, bumble bee, buzzard, butterball, bacterium, bird, bush cricket, bunny, bullfrog, bull, bull snake, black swan, beisa oryx, bee, bulldog, bivalve, buffalo, buck, blister beetle, birdwing, bighorn sheep, Bengal tiger, bed bug, bear, bat-"

"You're way over your time limit, or are you just trying to impress me?"

"Ianto's the one with the stopwatch, Owen, not me."

"Right," he said slowly. "What time is it right now?"

"I don't know," she answered impatiently.

"If you had to guess."

"Matthew's playing his trumpet. Is it the weekend, Owen?"

"It's Tuesday," he told her matter-of-factly, trying not to panic her. "Do you know how long you were unconscious?"

"No."

"Can you tell me how long you've been answering my questions?"

"What does it matter? My head's starting to hurt, Owen. Can't we do this later?"

Tears began to fall from Jack's eyes as he listened to the last Time Lord admit that she could no longer sense the passage of time.

"We'll be finished soon," he promised, "Just give it your best guess."

"Fifty rels?"

"Is that English?"

"Two hours? Come on, Owen, my head really hurts. Can't I just go back to sleep?"

"Sorry," the doctor apologized. "I know you're tired. Why don't you rest on the sofa while I find out what the Brigadier wanted with Jack." He sadly watched as her eyes blinked closed, wondering what would happen when she realized her deficit. For now, he was grateful that her mind was protecting her enough that she remained blissfully unaware.

As Owen walked resignedly into the kitchen, the Brigadier slipped quietly out the front door, having already given his condolences to a shattered Jack Harkness. The Captain was sitting at the table, gripping the receiver as if he could change the sounds coming out of it, his face grim. The devastation on Jack's face was terrible to witness, and Owen briefly worried about his friend's ability to cope with yet another tragedy.

Sitting down, Owen decided honesty was the only thing he could offer. "Jack, this goes well beyond my limited knowledge of Time Lords. I don't even know if her condition is permanent or temporary. I think on a subconscious level she knows exactly what's wrong, but her mind's not able to accept it right now."

Elbows on the table, Jack rested his head in his hands, unable to accept the diagnosis. After a few moments, he mutely got up, walked into the den, and picked up his wife. Carrying her into their bedroom, he closed and locked the door, leaving Owen standing uneasily alone in the den.